


Home Base

by scarletjedi



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, Crossover, Everybody Lives, M/M, fixit, this is all miss pop's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:31:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9395774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletjedi/pseuds/scarletjedi
Summary: When Gimli and Legolas sailed for Valinor, they didn't expect to find themselves in the middle of a space battle with memories that are not their own--and yet, as it soon becomes clear, are very much their own. Soon, they find themselves once more embroiled in a fight against tyranny and the forces of evil.





	1. Hyperspace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Poplitealqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poplitealqueen/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Begin Anew](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9383669) by [Poplitealqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poplitealqueen/pseuds/Poplitealqueen). 



> Poplitealqueen poked me until I wrote something, so thank you Pop! This fic begins right after the first chapter of her fic, which she has graciously allowed me to do. YOU WILL NEED TO READ HER FIC FOR THIS TO MAKE SENSE. Any similarity with the fic she intends to write is completely accidental. 
> 
> If you like what I do, come find me on [tumblr](scarletjedi.tumblr.com)

Legolas felt his heart tremble, looking out into the streaking vortex of hyperspace, in the space between the stars and yet in a space outside of space--

Warm hands, thick and broad, took his own. “Legolas, _kurdelê_ , you should not stare so.” That voice, so dearly treasured, and yet there was something unfamiliar (is it unfamiliar if it simply belonged to another set of memories?) “I would not lose you to ‘rapture so soon after getting you back from the waves.” Hyper-rapture; the spacer’s madness. 

It was enough to turn his head away from the swirling vortex, to look at his own husband--his Gimli--and smile. “Worry not, _meleth_ ,” he said softly--it was too much for loud speech. “I will not yet go where you cannot follow.” 

Gimli’s grin stretched wide, full of the wicked irreverence that burned through so many barriers. “Aye, I think we’ve proven that so far.” Legolas huffed a laugh, and pressed the button on the control panel that would opaque the screen. (What had happened, that he knew how this ship worked, as well as he had known how Arod would steer or his arrows would fly?) 

“Gimli, where are we?” Legolas asked, knowing his question was plaintive.

“Oh,” Gimli said, drawing the word out. “Somewhere between Kuat and Yavin 4.” 

Legolas flicked his husband’s ear, and Gimli yelped, rubbing away the sting with an apologetic expression. 

Shaking his head, Legolas looked out at the viewscreen, though his mind’s saw the lessons of his past. “This--there have been elves returned from Valinor before, they dominate the history of our race--and yet this matches none of the tales they have told.” 

Gimli leaned back in his seat, running a hand down over his beard as he thought though he did not loosen his grip on Legolas. “Tis possible that much has changed,” Gimli said at length. “While the elves in Middle Earth were content to let time pass, perhaps the elves who did not return were _not_ content. Three ages passed before the doom was lifted--that is a very long time.” 

Legolas pressed his lips together, unsatisfied, but there was little he could say to argue. It was possible, after all, though Legolas did not deem it likely. “Then why have we arrived here thusly? I know this ship, and know you in it, though my memory of myself before grows vague like a mortal dream.” 

“It is the same for me,” Gimli said. “I know this ship the way I know my own workshop, as if I built her with my bare hands--further, I know how to _fly_ her, though a battle in three dimensions is a bit much,” he added, dryly, and Legolas laughed quietly. 

“More,” Gimli said, “I know you’re here.” He squeezed Legolas’s hand, and the eyes that met his were intense. “And I know that, between the two of us, we can conquer any obstacle in our path.”

Legolas breathed deeply. “Aye,” he said. “We will.” He grinned. “Now, we have...” he checked the chrono, “elven hours before we reach Yavin, and I fear there is little to be done until we are planetside.” The term slipped off his tongue, as if he was used to speaking of planets as realms to visit as he had of Aglarond and Ithillien. “However shall we pass the time.” 

Gimli’s eyes grew heavy. “Oh, I can think of a few things.” 

***

Despite the heat between them, it was the better part of three hours before Gimli was able to put his hands on his love; they had been in battle, and before they could settle they had to make sure they would reach their destination safely. Luckily for them, the shields had held well, and there was little more than surface damage to the “Arod.” 

(At least the name of their ship had stayed the same. It was comforting, more than it should be, for all that Gimli did not know why.)

But now, lying as best they could in a bunk that was too short for Legolas, and too broad for both him and Gimli (and, Gimli knew, it was one of the larger bunks available. Ship bunks were notoriously tiny), Gimli stroked his hand over Legolas’s hair and stared up at the ceiling in thought. 

What did they know? They know that they were on a sailing ship bound for Valinor, sailing through the grey mists at the end of the world. They knew that Gimli was advanced in age, stiffened with the hardness that dwarves get as they begin to leave their prime, but that he was not yet quite so far gone that they would not yet have many decades together. They knew that they sailed by the star of Eärendil. 

They did not know how they came to be in this starship, not why any of this was not more strange than it was. They remembered what they were, in both lives, though it would seem those lives were one, now. 

And really--as time passed, the strangeness eased, leaving Gimli and Legolas both more settled in their place and time. The knowledge of this world remained close at hand, and Gimli was certain they would be able to navigate like a native (which, in a way, they were). 

Gimli was less certain that those who knew them before wouldn’t find them changed now. They had the memories of their lives in this world, but Gimli was still Gimli and Legolas was still Legolas. They would not doubt be questioned. 

Gimli stopped his pettings, and Legolas complained sleepily. Fondly, GImli resumed his gentle stroking. While always happy to lay together drowsing, Legolas, it seemed, still did not yet require sleep as a mortal did (though, GImli was sure that he had before. Was Legolas not an elf before? Was he an elf now? Was Gimli even still a dwarf?)

“Whatever questions are running around in your head can wait, my heart,” Legolas said, this voice thick. “You need your rest.” He raised his head, flushed from exertion and sleep both. He smirked. “You have worked admirably hard, after all.” 

GImli snorted, and pushed Legolas’s head down to his chest. “Brat,” he said, but with no heat. Legolas giggled, and Gimli closed his eyes. 

A bit of rest probably would do him good.


	2. Yavin 4

Gimli woke to the proximity alarm sounding in his ear. He snorted as he pushed himself up sharply, slapping his comlink to the floor. He was beginning to regret slaving the systems together. 

He was alone in the bunk. Waking alone was not something he was unused to, but typically, if he had gone to bed with Legolas, his husband was nearby when he woke. It made little sense until he felt the ship shudder as it dropped from hyperspace, and he knew what had taken his love from his side. 

Still tucking his shirt into his trousers, Gimli joined his husband in the cockpit. Legolas was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, secured higher to account for his longer legs, and he smiled at Gimli as he entered the clearance code. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Gimli frowned as he sat. The codes weren’t compromised already, were they? They were new as of yesterday!

“Arod, this is Base. You’re clear to land, and may I just say--it’s good to see you home.” 

Gimli and Legolas shared a grim look. True, Alliance personnel tended to be a bit less rigid than Imperials, but that level of relief was uncommon. Gimli had a bad feeling about the rest of their convoy, and looked into that other set of memories. 

It was right there at the top. Their mission had been a supply run--a milkrun that would get the Alliance vital supplies. Not just military supplies, weapons and blaster packs, but food and medical supplies from a little guarded Imperial outpost. It had gone well, too well perhaps, until they had been back in the air. 

No one had expected the Star Destroyers when they had dropped out of hyperspace, far too close for the rebel pilots to get out of range with their slow and plodding bulk cruisers. 

Gimli and Legolas had been the only survivors. 

Mostly on autopilot, Gimli guided the Arod down to the surface. When Legolas placed a shaking hand on his arm, Gimli knew Legolas had remembered what had happened to the rest of their convoy. Once landed, Gimli turned and pulled Legolas to him, tucking his head against his chest just as Legolas lost what little he had of his composure. 

Legolas never had learned to handle mortal grief well. Not in the war, nor when Eomer had died, nor Arwen. He had wept bitterly for Faramir, who had spent many days among the woods of Ithillien in his later years. The deaths of Merry and Pippin had been particularly bitter, Legolas’s heart already wounded, and their passings so closer together had not given him a chance to recover. Aragorn had truly been the last Legolas had been able to bear, and they had departed for the havens for more than just the siren call of the sea that had haunted Legolas’s blood for so many years. 

So Gimli held him, and stroked his hair, and murmured love with his lips pressed to Legolas’s forehead until his tears ran dry and Legolas could breathe easily once more. 

By the time they had readied themselves, General Doodona had himself appeared at their ship’s ramp. “Thank the Force,” he said once he saw them. “When we heard about the convoy--they reported no survivors.” 

“They wouldn’t,” Legolas said softly, and Doodona looked at him sharply, but Legolas was still to grieved to speak on it further, so Gimli cleared his throat to explain his husband’s reasoning. 

“They knew we were coming,” Gimli said. “They had to have; it’s the only way it could have played out the way it did. They know there’s an information leak somewhere. They were counting on you hearing that report.” 

Doodona frowned at them. “We shouldn’t discuss this out here; you’ll need to give your full report.” 

Gimli looked at Legolas, taking in his pallid complexion, and nearly protested that they needed time--but Legolas raised his chin and nodded once sharply. He looked at Gimli, and Gimli sighed. Time was something the Alliance never had enough of. 

“We’ll be waiting for you in the war room. Oh-Three-hundred,” he said, and Gimli nodded. It was only thirty minutes from now, but Gimli would take whatever time they were given.

“We’ll be there,” Gimli said, and Doodona disappeared back into the hustle of the landing bay. 

***

Legolas was quiet as they walked through the base, wrung out and tired from the day. Idly, he reached up a hand to untuck the hair from behind his ears; there were none he could see with ears like his and Legolas was nearly certain that his own hadn’t been quite so pointed before. His marriage braid was a comforting weight on the side of his head, and he rain his fingers over the strands before he lowered his hand once more. 

Breathing deeply, he search for the scent of green trees and rich earth under the bitter scents of exhaust and oil and fuel. The air here on Yavin 4 was heavy and heady and he would be happy to spend his days among the green, for all that the green was alien to him. It helped heal the bruising on his heart, and his steps began to lighten once more. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen an Eldar,” called a voice to Legolas’s right. 

“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen anything,” replied another, deep and surly. 

The first voice gasped, as if shocked by this news, and said something in a language Legolas did not recognize, earning him a grunt from the other man. Legolas couldn’t help but turn to look for the speakers. 

Legolas spotted him quickly; a man with the features like Easterlings and dressed in robes, sitting on a low crate with a staff held across his lap. His face was turned up, towards Legolas but not _at_ him, and Legolas could see the blind whiteness of his eyes. 

Behind him, sitting on a higher crate, was another man of darker features, his hair braided and bound like the Dwarves of the East. He did not wear robes like his companion, but a suit of armor, and in his arms he held a large blaster-rifle that he slowly and meticulously checked over. He snorted. 

“The Eldar are a myth, you fool.” 

The first man shook his head, his expression pulled into an exaggerated frown. “And they say I’m blind,” he said. The man with the blaster rolled his eyes so hard his head rolled with it. Next to them a man in mechanic greys was working on the under-panel of a black imperial shuttle. He kept glancing at them, and Legolas, in a way that reminded Legolas of Frodo on his bad days, when he would look at every shadow as if it were an enemy. “All things are possible in the Force.”

“They call the Force a myth now, too,” the man with the blaster said, dryly. If Legolas wasn’t mistaken, his hands on his blaster grew more rough as he spoke.

The blind man shook his head, tilting his head back. “You know what I’m going to say to that.” 

“Yeah,” the man with the blaster said, nodding. “And you’ll still be wrong.” 

The blind man waved it off, and the mechanic ducked his head to hide his laughter. Gimli appeared at Legolas’s side, then, taking his hand. Legolas turned, to apologize for his delay. 

“Hey Eldar!” the blind man called before Legolas could speak, “It’s rude to stare, come say hello.” 

Gimli raised an eyebrow at Legolas, who shrugged slightly. Gimli nodded. 

“Shall we?” he murmured, his mouth quirking into a smile. Legolas simply raised both brows at him, and walked over to the strange men, pulling Gimli behind him. 

“Hello,” Legolas said, stopping before the blind man. “I am Legolas. This is Gimli. Who are you, who speak of the Eldar?” 

“Right,” the blind man said, crossing his arms, smug. The man with the blaster sniffed hard, and did not speak. 

“He is Chirrut,” the mechanic said, pointing with his wrench. “Behind him is Baze. I am Bodhi.” He ducked away again, his hand gripping his tool with white-knuckled grip. “Are you really an Eldar?” He looked down at Gimli. “You don’t look much like the stores say.” 

“What do you know of the Eldar?” Gimli asked, and Bodhi flinched back. Gimli’s face fell, and he cleared his throat, softer. “Sorry, lad, I didn’t mean to bark at ye.” 

“He’s from Jedha,” Baze said. “The old tales lived a long time on Jedha.” He nudged Chirrut in the back with his boot. “But they’re just tales.” 

Chirrut harumped. “Tales come from somewhere.” He turned his head, and though he did not look at Legolas, he still somehow knew he was in this strange man’s sights. “You are Eldar.” 

“I am,” Legolas said, “though Gimli is not.” 

Chirrut grinned, slapping his knee. “Ha!” He crowed, and held up his hand. “You owe me,” he said to Baze. 

“I haven’t bet with you in ten years,” Baze began, but Chirrut spoke over it, a loud “bah” that nearly bleated like a goat. Bodhi leaned in towards Gimli. 

“They fight like enemies,” he said. “But Chirrut told me they’ve been married for over twenty years.” 

“Twenty-Five,” Baze corrected. 

“And together for longer than that,” Chirrut bragged. “You found me irresistible.” 

“I found you a danger to yourself and others.” 

A woman’s voice came over the intercom, and Legolas’s head tilted as he listened. The name she spoke rang a sharp bell, and he realized with a start that it was his own name, in this world. “We’re being hailed,” he said. 

Gimli checked his chrono, “Mahal’s balls, we’re late for the debrief.” 

Legolas checked his own chrono from habit, and they were indeed nearly fifteen minutes late. He swore softly, and turned to run. 

“Find us after, Eldar!” Chirrut called after them. “We have beer!” 

“We have questions!” Legolas called back. “We’ll trade!” 

“Now that,” Gimli said softly, jogging next to Legolas, “sounds like a plan.


	3. The Alliance

The briefing was difficult, and felt a little too much like an interrogation. General Merrick seemed beaten down by circumstance, while General Draven saw enemy in every shadow. Legolas watched as Draven barely contained a snarl as Gimli said, for a third time, that there had been no survivors to pick up, that the empire had arrived too quickly and struck too harshly, that they had not left their fellows to die when they could be saved. 

It would have been insulting, if Legolas did not recognize the look in Draven’s eyes. He had seen it in Boromir’s eyes, when desperation for his people had pushed him to desperation. Legolas and Gimli both had heard the regret in Boromir’s voice as he lay dying, confessing to his king, and Legolas could not then condemn Draven for his fears. His people were dying, and his cause was losing hope. There was no Aragorn here to rally hope to him. There was no final call to the light against the darkness, only the never ending struggle. 

No, Legolas did not judge him. 

Gimli, however, was not so forgiving, and the briefing was cut short when Gimli’s temper finally blew and he slammed his fist down onto the edge of the display table--the sound enough to end the murmuring and muttering that had filled the space. On the table, the projection from the hologram wavered, flickering, before it stabilized. 

Breathing heavily through his nose, Gimli met the eyes of command. Legolas raised his hand to Gimli’s shoulder when Gimli finally met the blank face of Senator Mothma. 

“It was a _trap_ ,” Gimli said quietly--but Gimli was a lord, kin of the royal line and raised as nobility. His voice carried not only through the room, but held within it the weight of one who was used to being heeded. It did not go unnoticed, and Legolas saw several of the upper brass stand a little straighter as Gimli spoke. “They came from nowhere, with no warning. Our orders were to get the supplies back to the Alliance _by any means necessary_. That means _everyone_ scattered. The last thing I saw before we entered hyperspace was the main cruiser take damage to their starboard engines, and blow. Are there any questions?” 

There was a beat too long of silence, and Legolas’s mouth twitched with the urge to grin. Gimli had never been one for suffering the squabbles of a committee. 

Mon Mothma looked up from the display. “I believe we’re done for now. Thank you for your candor, Commander Attint,” She said, and Legolas squeezed his hand when he felt Gimli start. Apparently, his husband had not looked for his name here, in his other memories. Legolas had - Salk Attint, from Peragus II. All told, Legolas liked ‘Gimli son of Gloin’ more--it better captured that noble nature of his love. Gimli reached up to squeeze his fingers in thanks, and Legolas let his hand drop.

Gimli bowed to Mothma, in the fashion of the dwarves, and she smiled at him (Legolas rather thought she was surprised by her own amusement. Gimli, Legolas knew, had a harder time not being charming, and was utterly unsurprised that he showed his grace, even now). Legolas nodded himself, and turned to leave, when she spoke again. 

“Do not got far, gentlemen,” she said. “Andor has returned, and we’re all going to need to hear what he has to say.” 

Andor was a spy--or, at least, that’s what Legolas’s former self that thought. He took his orders from Draven and he alone, and it was well known that Draven commandeered Alliance Intelligence. Rumor had it that Draven specialised in overseeing intelligence that was far closer to _wet works_ but nobody knew for sure. If the Brass knew, they weren’t talking, and it didn’t surprise Legolas. War was messier than the tales would say, and well he knew that few or one could accomplish what an entire army could not. 

***

Instead of leaving, Gimli led Legolas to a more sheltered corner of the war room to wait where they would be relatively out of the way. It wasn’t long until the room began to fill. When it became clear to Gimli that, were he not to do something, he would not be able to see the briefing, he climbed up onto a packing crate that was doubling as a way to shore up the console next to him. As a result, the space for standing was narrow, and Gimli braced himself against Legolas’ shoulder. 

Legolas watched him struggle. While he did not move to help him, which Gimli knew he would accept with ill grace, neither did Legolas move away. In the end, Gimli still was not as tall as Legolas, but he could match his husband’s eye. 

“Damn fool elves,” Gimli muttered under his breath. “Why couldn’t you be a reasonable height.” 

Still without looking at him, Legolas’s grin spread across his face. 

With the room mostly full, the crowd across the room parted around someone moving to the front; when the crowd parted, it revealed a young woman, perhaps the age of Eowyn when they and first met her, and just as bitterly driven. The man behind her Gimli recognized as Cassian Andor, along with the reclaimed Imperial droid K-2SO. Gimli had known one of the engineers who had worked on Kayto’s programing, and he’d heard often enough that there was a _flaw_ somewhere that they had’t caught, and now couldn’t get close enough to fix. Now, Gimli wondered what they had meant by _flaw_ at all. 

Beyond them, standing with the others, were Chirrut, Baze, and Bodhi. Chirrut was shorter than Gimli had first surmised--or perhaps Baze was simply taller. He was certainly a sight, with his weapon and his armor. Bodhi looked like a child next to them, and Gimli was reminded of Pippin--honest in his desire to help, and yet far too young for the horrors they had faces. 

Pippin, with the resilience of hobbits, had bounced back better than Gimli would have thought. Bodhi, Gimli guessed, would not bounce quite so easily. 

Then there was little time to think further as the briefing began. Soon, Gimli felt his stomach drop with horror. 

A Space Station that could destroy an _entire world._ The worst of Sauron’s war machines far paled in comparison; what Grok in the face of firepower of that magnitude. (A deep part of his brain insisted that even Sauron would balk at the use of such weapon, though he was not sure how accurate that was; What Sauron could not rule, he would destroy). Legolas was pale and trembling like a leaf as he stared at the hologram, and he was not the only one. All around them, the others shifted uneasily, muttering their disbelief, sinking into denial in the face of their fear. 

Gimli had to give it to the young woman; her speech was rousing. It chased fear from him, and set his heart resolute once more. (Gimli had faced darkness before and not wavered. He would not falter now).

The Brass was not unmoved, either. Gimli could see it in the eyes of Senator Mothma, and in the set of Bail Antilles; Jaw, where he stood beside her. (Gimli rather liked the man; Salk was old enough to remember Antilles from the Clone War, and he had always liked the Alderaanian senator, though he had never met the man before joining the Alliance. To Gimli, he reminded him of Faramir; a learned leader with a great weight on his shoulders, fighting against terrible odds on only the glow of hope).

And yet, it was not enough. The risk was too great, after all, and Gimli thought of Aragorn in the hours before the Battle at the Black Gate, pacing and full of fear, but resolute.

Impossible had no place in the vocabulary of those who fight for freedom. 

The briefing ended soon after when Mon Mothma took her leave, Antillies going with her. The crowd was slow to disperse, however, and Gimli turned back to Legolas. “I don’t know about you, but I could use that drink.” 

Legolas nodded, with a faint smile. “We think alike, _meleth_ ,” he said, and looked over the crowd. He frowned. “I no longer see our new friends, however.” 

Gimli hopped down from the box. “In this crowd, I’m not surprised. Give it a moment, and we’ll go looking.” 

Nodding, Legolas sat on the box that Gimli had been standing on. Gimli stood next to him, leaning his weight against Legolas’s shoulder, and just was, for a few moments. 

Once the crowd was thin enough, Gimli pulled Legolas to his feet and they made their way back towards the landing bay. They entered the bay just in time to see the Imperial shuttle that Bodhi had been working on lift off into the air, sirens wailing. 

Gimli looked at Legolas, who looked back in surprise. 

“They’re going to Scarif,” Legolas breathed. “They have to be.” 

Gimli nodded, sharply, knowing Legolas was right. “And we’re going to help them Come on!” 

By the time they were finished with Pre-flight checks, the official order had been given. Gimli pulled the ship up with the others, and Legolas sat stonily next to him as they made their way back out of atmosphere. As one with the fleet, Gimli sent them back into hyperspace.


	4. Scarif

This time, traveling through hyperspace provided no much needed break--Gimli and Legolas both knew their best course of action was to rest when they could, but they were far too familiar with the moments before battle to be anything but restless. 

“I do not like it,” Gimli grumbled. “Out upon the water is bad enough for a dwarf, whose feet ever long for the feel of stone beneath, but to be out in space?” He shook his head. After a moment, he said, “At least it is metal we stand in. I cannot think how hard this is for you, my love, who have not growing things nor open spaces.”

“I have the stars, at least,” Legolas said. “I am closer to them now than I ever was in Arda, and that thought has helped me much.” Gimli watched as he bit his lip, a habit he had only gained in the years after the call of the sea first came to his blood, and Gimli forced himself to tuck his worry away.

All too soon, they dropped from hyperspace, Gimli alone in the cockpit while Legolas manned the upper canon. The were one of the last ones to arrive, and the battle was already joined. Orders were called through the open channesl, and Gimli flew his best to give their fellows aid. 

When the call came through that Rogue One’s mission could not be completed with the planet’s shield still up, Gimli heard Legolas whoop. 

“They’re still alive!” he cried out. 

“Let us hope this helps keep them that way,” Gimli muttered, and took his turn running the control base--but it was like pebbles against a charging Oliphaunt; their blasters and torpedoes simply weren’t doing enough damage. 

Crashing a Star Destroyer, however, worked _very_ well. 

Gimli had laid in his course and was in-atmosphere by the time the retreat was sounded. They had the plans, and the Death Star was in range to fire. He knew Legolas heard the order, and his husband’s silence meant he knew why Gimli was not turning around--and agreed. 

They found Bodhi first, the explosion drawing them better than any beacon. Gimli grit his teeth and prayed to Mahal--and there, the shuttle. It was damaged, the back half gone and wires sparking and smoking, but Legolas flew from his station to the back hatch and Gimli knew he had seen something. 

Gimli hovered just above the ground, not willing to set down and risk not getting up against fast enough, and felt the seconds tick against the harshness of his breathing. Too long, it was taking him--

“Go! _Meleth_ , fly!” 

And Gimli was up. A quick glance back showed him Legolas easing Bodhi, burned and still smoking slightly, but _alive_ into a seat, and Gimli turned to finding the others. 

Further down the beach, a firefight had broken out, and Gimli headed towards it. 

“Legolas!” he called. “I need your aim!”

Legolas murmured something to Bodhi, and then ran back to his blaster canon. 

They entered the beach with blasters blazing, taking out targets as they headed towards Baze, who was walking slowly forward, shooting everything he could with a wild fire like grief in his face. When the last blaster stopped, Legolas ran back once more, this time merely needing to open the door to let Baze climb in; he carried Chirrut in his arms, and refused to let Legolas take him. Gimli was up in the air as soon as the back hatch began to close; they were already on borrowed time, and they still had to find the others. 

***

Legolas slammed his palm against the manual door operator, bracing himself against the bulkhead as the ship rocked as it rose. His eyes met Bodhi’s across the bay; a Stormtrooper had managed to throw a grenade into the ship, and Bodhi had just enough presence of mind to try tossing it _back_ when it had blown mid-air. The explosion had caught the back of the ship, and the fireball had made his skin blister along his right side, but he was alive and applying some bacta from the Arod’s emergency medical kit. 

He was pale, though, and not just from shock. 

Legolas tuned to Baze, who knelt on the floor, cradling Chirrut in his lap. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Baze’s shoulder. “Baze,” he said, softly. “Is he...”

Baze’s jaw clenched, the muscle jumping frantically as Baze worked himself to speech. “No,” he croaked, finally. “But it won’t be long now.” 

Legolas looked down at Chirrut, and could barely reconcile the pale and still form with the energetic man who had recognized him for what he was. Legolas set his shoulders. 

“By whatever grace I have within me,” Legolas said softly, “I will not let him go so easily.” 

Baze looked up at him, then, his expression cracked and broken, but his eyes sparked with hope. “They say the Eldar were great healers.” 

Legolas stood, pulling down the bunk that served as their emergency medical suite. “I was a warrior, not a healer,” he said. Quietly and desperately, Legolas wished for some Athelas and Aragorn. Their friend’s healing hands were the stuff of legend. “But I am not without some skill. Get him on the bunk. We will let man’s medicine do what it can, and perhaps that will tip the scales just enough.”

It was not promising; that Chirrut was even still alive bewildered Legolas, but he still attached Chirrut to the IV, treated his wounds with bacta-patches. His hands worked switftly, and he hummed softly to himself, praying to Estë the Gentle, Lady of Healing and Rest. Through it all, Baze watched, as if Chirrut would slip away from him if he so much as blinked. Legolas said nothing, for he could not guarantee that he would not. 

So focused was he, that it was a surprise when the hatch opened once more, to reveal Cassian Andor and Jyn Erso, bloodied and kneeling in the sand. Legolas barely spared them a glance, and Baze, if he knew the hatch had opened, gave no sign. It was Bodhi, then who spoke. 

“What are you waiting for! Get in!” 

It was what they needed, and Jyn pulled Cassian to his feet so they could hobble forward. Bodhi scrambled forward to help them on board, and it was Jyn who hit the control for the hatch. 

“Go!” she cried out. 

“Kaytoo?” Bodhi asked, but Cassian shook his head. 

Legolas staggered back as the ship accelerated; were they not so close to the surface, Legolas would have thought they’d entered hyperspace. Baze caught him, keeping him upright, and then pushing him gently towards the cockpit. “Get us out of here,” he said. “Save all of us or none of us.” 

With a sharp nod, Legolas sprinted to the cockpit. Gimli was focused fully on the controls, and one look at the viewscreen was enough to tell why; it was as if the earth itself had risen as a tidal wave to wash them away. Legolas wondered if this was like what those of Beleriand had seen in their last moments, and forced himself to look away before his heart failed him. 

Those last moments, riding the edge of destruction, Legolas would hold as some of the most fearful of his long life--and he cried out softly when they finally exited the atmosphere and were, at least, safe from the Death Star’s deadly blast. 

“They destroyed their own records,” Legolas said softly, looking down at the planet.

“Aye, and nearly us with it,” Gimli said, and sat back in his seat. They had come out on the far side of the battle, and as of yet, no one had noticed them. The fleet was nearly gone; their mission complete their task was to get back to base safely. 

Gimli did a double take when he saw Legolas, and he realized that his hands and front were stained with blood. “Chirrut,” he said. “He needs more healing than I have.” 

“We need a place to go, or healing won’t matter,” Gimli said. Legolas nodded and pulled up the starmap. 

When he saw it, he nearly couldn’t believe, and send a silent but heartfelt thankful prayer to Estë. “Believe in our luck, my husband,” Legolas said as he set in the coordinates. “I may have found us a house of healing.”


	5. House of Healing

Safe for the moment, Legolas and Gimli went to check on what remained of the group that wasl already being called Rogue One. 

Bodhi didn’t move when they entered the hold, but his breathing was steady and deep. Meditating, perhaps? Or simply trying to stave off panic? EIther way, his wounds had been treated as best they could, and the medipack had been passed to Jyn, who worked on applying bandages to a Cassian who was staring at her as if she was some sort of salvation. She had her own wounds that needed tending, but they would keep until Cassian was seen to. 

Chirrut showed little change, save for the mask placed over his face to ensure that even his shallow breathing would give him enough air. Legolas stopped next to Baze, who grunted without looking away from Chirrut’s face. “Stopped all the bleeding I could find,” he said, and Legolas heard what wasn’t said; there may very well be bleeding they wouldn’t be able to find. Legolas looked at Baze’s face, and frowned. 

“You look pale,” he said. “Were you wounded?” 

In answer, Baze’s left leg buckled, and he dropped. Luckily, Gimli was there to help Legolas catch him, and between the two of them they were able to stretch him out. Looking him over quickly quickly, it took a second look before Legolas saw it; in the shadow of his armor, a blaster wound. Peeling away the armor, Legolas’s hand was quickly covered with blood. 

Gimli swore, and grabbed a compression bandage from the medipack. They were going to keep three of them on board after this, if Legolas had anything to say about it. 

“Damn fool,” Gimli growled as he pressed the bandage to the wound. Baze hissed, and Legolas saw the strength in Gimli’s grip. “What good is getting _him_ patched up, if you drop dead in the meantime.” 

Baze bared his teeth. “The world is brighter with him in it,” he said. “The war will need his optimism.” 

Jyn crouched next to Gimli and began to tie off the bandage as he held it steady. “How optimistic do you think he’ll be without you with him,” Jyn said. Baze didn’t answer, looking instead down to the hands working on his leg. 

When Baze spoke, it was quiet. “The Force is with him,” he said. 

Jyn reached up without looking and flicked Baze in the middle of the forehead; he looked up at her, surprised. “The Force gave him you!” she snapped. 

Baze blinked at her, like it had never occurred to him, and then to Legolas’s surprise, he began to laugh. He shared a look with Gimli and Jyn alike, Baze’s laugh was surprisingly mirthful, nearly a giggle save for its depth. “Then I am with him,” he said, at last. 

“Oh good,” Cassian said. He had moved to the side, his back against the seat where Bodhi still had his eyes closed. “He’ll need you when we get back to base.” 

“We’re not going back to base,” Legolas said, and found himself at the center of attention. “Chirrut’s in a bad way; he needs the kind of healing that the Alliance would be strained to supply, even before their last supply run was betrayed. I found us a place nearby where we can heal and be safe for as long as we need.” 

As if on cue, the proximity alarm sounded, and Legolas stood. “We’ll be landing soon. We will be safe there, but be wary all the same. We do not yet know who else is resting there.” 

He headed back to the cockpit, Gimli following behind. “Where _are_ we going?” Gimli asked. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you dodging the question before, love.” 

Legolas sighed. “I’m sorry, _meleth._ I did not want to give false hope.” Gimli sat in the captain’s chair and took them out of hyperspace. Legolas raised the blast shielding, and through the viewport in front of them, was a space station. It looked not unlike a great tree, whose roots below reached as far as the roots above, and as they neared, Legolas saw that the end of each branch held a domed landing bay. The entire station spun, slowly, twisting through space like a ribbon in the wind. 

The com alert sounded, and Legolas hit the button. “-dentified shuttle. This is Home Base. Please state the purpose of your visit. Repeat, unidentified shuttle. This is Home Base. Please state the purpose of your visit.” 

Legolas leaned forward, taking a deep breath and a deep risk: “ _Mín thír an post a iaun._ ” 

There was silence on the other end, and Legolas bit his lip and tried again. “We come for rest and sanctuary.” 

“Your request is granted,” Home Base answered, and Legolas closed his eyes as Gimli received directions to the platform. 

***

Legolas’s reticence was clear once he spoke in that lilting birdsong his people called a language. He believed they found elves--and elves who may be able to help them heal. Gimli hoped so--more, he hoped that they had found elves who would not be upset by the sight of a dwarf among them. Relations had improved since the end of the ring, but there were many more elves who were not in Arda than were during the time of building. 

Still, he landed the ship where they told him, and prayed that if they did decide to be suspicious of him, they would at least see to their friend’s healing. 

Once the dome was sealed around them, the door at the far end of the platform opened, and a man stepped through. 

Rather--an elf stepped through, Gimli would stake his life on that. Only an elf could move with such liquid grace, as if the air were more like water to swim through. Surprisingly, it was a more welcome sight than Gimli had expected. Maybe it was simply because everything else had been so strange. 

There was something different about this elf, through. Something eager. He couldn’t yet know of their need, could he?

Legolas peered at the elf coming towards them, and gave a soft sound, a smile lighting his face as he jumped from his seat and ran for the hatch. Gimli peered at the elf again; he was still too far away. 

Slowly, Gimli followed Legolas. He reached the hold just as the new elf ascended the hatch, and stopped as if struck dumb as relief flooded through him. 

Legolas was not so halted. “Lord Elrond,” he said with a grin. “It is good to see you.” 

For Lord Elrond it was, and he looked at Legolas in wonder. “Legolas Thranduilion,” he said softly, and a smile spread across his face. “I never thought to see you on my doorstep again, not without--” he looked up and stopped, this time with shock. “Gimli, son of Gloin?” 

Gimli bowed. “It is good too see you again, my Lord. But pray, are you still a healer?” 

Elrond looked around him, seeing the humans for the first time. “Yes,” he said. “Yes of course. There will be time for stories.” He pulled out a comlink, and spoke a few lilting words onto it before stepping over to Baze and Chirrut. He bowed to Baze. 

“Guardian. It has been a long time since I have seen one of your order.” 

Baze smirked. “It has been a long time since I was a Guardian,” he said, and sobered. “Can you help him?” 

Elrond place his hand over his heart. “If the power is within me, it will be done.” 

The door opened at the far end, and a team of medical droids wheeled in, some with stretchers. “Please, go with them. Be healed. I will follow with your fellow when I can,” he said. “And be Welcome in my home.” With that he turned back around. 

Gimli helped Cassian to his feet, while Legolas gently roused Bodhi. Baze, he knew, would not be moved until Chirrut would travel, and Gimli knew better than to try and force him. He helped Jyn brace Cassian to walk him out to a stretcher, and then watched his new companions be carried off towards medical while another medical droid hovered around him. 

“I’m fine,” Gimli told him. “Not hurt. I wasn’t on the ground with them.” 

The droid whirred in place for a moment before simply saying. “Please follow me.” 

Gimli looked to see Legolas standing a few paces away, staring up above them. Looking up, Gimli wished he hadn’t. 

There was nothing above them, only the vast infinite of stars. Gimli swayed on his feet and forced himself to look down at the metal plating of the landing bay. 

“Please follow me,” the droid said again. 

“Yeah, alright,” Gimli said, and took Legolas’s hand. Legolas followed, but his eyes strayed ever to the stars.


	6. Healing

Gimli felt more at home in Elrond’s medbay than he had felt since and Legolas had first arrived in this strange world, probably because it looked more like the Hall of Healing in Imladris--looked more like Middle Earth--than anything Gimli had yet seen. It was calming, even if some deep part of him grumbled at taking comfort at the sight of elven things. 

Gimli resolutely told that part of himself to be quiet, as “elven things” were certainly more familiar than _spaceships_ and blasters. 

It helped that not everybody on Home Base was an elf, although a great many of them were, as it reminded Gimli of where he was. That life was over, and seeing a Rishii walking with golden blond elf that Gimli was almost sure was Glorfindel the Balrog Slayer--well, at least Gimli wasn’t the only one dreaming. 

Elvish healing was still a miracle--and they still didn’t quite know how to deal with Gimli. 

“I told you, I’m fine!” Gimli said. He was sitting on a bed, dressed in a pair of loose white pants of some soft material that he would swear was silk, or at least incredibly advanced synth-silk, trying, once again, to tell the medical droid that he didn’t need medical attention. “I wasn’t in the fighting--and besides, I’m a dwarf! We’re made of hearty stuff.” 

The droid twisted on its base, almost as if it was cocking its head. “I am not familiar with that species definition: dwarf. Please stand for your examination.” 

“You might as well stand,” said a woman behind him. “These droids are notoriously stubborn, especially when a patient is denying treatment.” 

Gimli did stand, at the moment she spoke, and he turned to face her. She was not familiar to him, though she was familiar: silver hair and luminous eyes, with a voice deeper than one would expect from a woman. She reminded him, in turns, of the Lady Galadriel and the Lady Arwen--

And then Gimli knew who must be standing before him. 

“Lady Celebrian!” He said, surprised, and bowed deeply. “It is an honor to meet the daughter of my lady, and the mother of my queen.” He stood, and the droid wheeled up behind him to begin its scan. 

“Hardly a lady, here,” she said. “This world cares little for those titles.” 

GImli cleared his throat, suddenly wishing he had a shirt to wear. “A world’s cares or no, it does not diminish a Lady’s grace.” 

He was surprised to see a faint flush along her cheek, and Celebrian grinned. “I have heard tales of you, Gimli son of Gloin, Lockbearer. They warned me of your silver tongue.” 

“Oh,” Gimli said, smile spreading across his face. “Does that require a warning, now?” 

“It does when you’re flirting with my wife,” Lord Elrond said from behind him, and Gimli spun, startled, to find Elrond and Legolas standing behind him. 

“Must you?!” Gimli demanded. “The two of you, sneaking up on a body!” The medi-droid returned with fold of cloth, and GImli grabbed it. It turned out to be a wrap-style tunic in the same silk as his pants, and he put it on quickly. 

“We could not resist, _meleth_ ,” Legolas said and stepped forward to help Gimli adjust the drape across his shoulders, though his hands linger longer than they need to. His hands are clean, and his clothes are different--though not the medical wear that Gimli had donned. Someone brought his husband to clean himself, and Gimli owed him a thanks. 

“Forgive me, Gimli,” Elrond said. “It was in poor taste. But I see you have met my wife.” 

“Indeed, he has,” Celebrian said. “It is an honor to finally meet mother’s Champion.” 

Gimli felt his cheeks heat. “The honor is mine,” he said, and turned to Elrond. “But please, how fair the others?” 

“Well enough,” Elrond said. “Those who came in awake are now sleeping, their wounds checked and medicines given. Your friend who was in such a bad way, on the other hand...” He hesitated, and Gimli felt his heart pound with fear. “I have done all I can, and strength has returned to him. He is currently in a bacta tank; I believe there is enough spark in him now that he can heal on his own.” His eye turned keen. “It’s an amazing thing, bacta. What I could have done with it for those infected with darkness...” He trailed off, and Gimli bit his lip. For Frodo. 

“You must have many questions,” Celebrian said. “Come. It is time for dinner. We will answer what we can over a warm meal.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Gimli said, and Legolas hummed his agreement. Elrond held out his hand to his wife, and they led their way out of the halls. 

***

This place, this island in the stars, left Legolas reeling--though, thankfully, not in the same way it stole his husbands legs from him. It was still distressingly easy for Legolas to allow himself to be separated from the rest: all he needed was an open viewport to the infinite. 

He was not sure how long he stared before he was pulled back with a gentle hand on his arm. Legolas started, and spun to see Elrond next to him, watching him with a sad smile in his eyes. 

“You still feel the call,” Elrond said softly. “It pulls you on.” 

Legolas blinked, and had to stop himself from looking out once more. “Is that what this is?” he asked. “I thought the call answered when we set sail.” 

Elrond nodded and led him from the viewport. It was easier to walk away with his back to the stars, though the light of them seemed to prick with as if with many pins. “You are not alone in that belief,” he said, and Legolas thought his smile was rather warmer than it had been in Imladris, or even in the days after the destruction of the Ring. Here was Elrond, then, without the weight of grief that had lived with him for so long. 

Legolas understood when Elrond led them through the doors into the hall, and he saw Gimli speak with an elf maid who could be no other than Celebrian--Lord Elrond’s Lady wife. He stepped forward, and the feel of his hands on Gimli’s shoulders grounding him. His love was ever steady, but there was a slight wavering to Gimli that unsettled Legolas. Elrond’s offer of a meal was therefore most welcome; Legolas was sure they hadn’t eaten much since they first found themselves here. 

Elrond and Celebrian led them to a small and intimate dining room, one meant for smaller gatherings, and called for food. Unlike the servants of Imladris, Home Base seemed to be served by droids of many sizes and types. (While, if one had explained the concept of droids to Legolas before coming here, he would have said they sounded like a dwarvish invention, there was still something uniquely elvish about the serving droids. Perhaps it was their curved lines and edges, or how quietly they moved. Either way, it created in Legolas a sensation of wrongness, not unlike looking at a copy of something rather than the thing itself. He looked away). The food was more familiar, however, with fresh vegetables and delicate fish. 

Legolas and Gimli ate gratefully, as Elrond explained to them how they came to be here. 

“When Valinor was removed from Arda, it was placed out among the stars,” he said. “But the stars are vast, and there is more than one path, and more than one cradle where life was kindled. This is one of those cradles, and it is easy for one to be...blown off course, as it were, and end up here rather than Valinor.” 

“Is that how you came to be here?” Gimli asked, but Elrond shook his head. 

“No, I arrived in Valinor with Mithrandir and the Ring Bearers, as intended.” 

“It was I that was blown off course,” Celebrian said. “I found myself in this strange land with strange customs, but I was not the first, and there were those learned in the ways of magic that knew of our kind. They were very helpful finding my kin--and leading my husband to me when he sailed here.” 

“I had missed you for centuries,” Elrond said, taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “I would not miss you for longer, if it was at all in my power.” 

Celebrian smiled. “And for that, I am grateful.” 

“Is there a way to Valinor, still?” Legolas asked, and Elrond nodded. 

“Indeed there is,” he said. “Once again, I find myself guarding the road West, for Home Base is also a waystation; those who have gotten lost may regain their bearings here, safe from the dangers of this world--and they are many.” 

“We know,” Legolas said. 

“Apparently, we were part of the rebellion,” Gimli added. “Before we became ourselves, if you please.” 

“Are you really,” Elrond said. “Well, that does not surprise me. It is not in either of your nature to allow injustice to continue when you can act to stop it.” Legolas smiled, his hand reaching out to squeeze Gimli’s fingers. Gimli turned over his hand, and twined their fingers together. “If you wish to continue on, you need only say the word, and I can send you on.” 

Legolas looked at Gimli, and Gimli--still chewing his fish, shrugged.

“I thank you, Lord Elrond,” Legolas said. “But I am afraid we are not yet ready.” He turned back to Elrond. “Once again, the road before us is darkened. It is our purpose to walk that road as torchbearers to burn away the shadow.” 

“Aye,” Gimli said. “We’re part of this fight, and we’ll be here until the end of it.” 

Elrond smiled wryly. “Somehow, I thought you might be.”


	7. Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading!

They spend three weeks at Home Base, healing and gaining a much-needed respite. Jyn is the first one well enough to be released, and she still stays with Cassian until he is on his feet, a few days after.

Bodhi is next, and after checking in (on) everyone, he disappears into the hangar to channel his worry into fixing the Arod. Gimli spends much of his time with them, as does Celebrian, to their surprise. Legolas had been present when she arrived, dressed in mechanics greys and with her own much-loved tool kit. She had laughed at their surprise, reminding them that she had been here far longer than Home Base had been under her husband’s custodianship. (When she had first sailed, body broken and heartsick, she had found a purpose in repair that helped to heal her soul. Though he did not know what had hurt Bodhi, Legolas thought he had found much the same). 

Still, three mechanics, even with the assistance of droids, can only work so quickly. While repairs crept along, Baze was released from care, though he still walked with a limp. Elrond seemed confident that the limp would faze as his strength returned, but Legolas wasn’t so sure; so much rested on Chirrut’s health. 

Baze had not left Chirrut’s side, as even his sickbed had been placed in the same room. Even free to roam, Baze chose to sit with Chirrut. When Legolas had visited, Baze would without fail be watching the rise and fall of Chirrut’s chest, as if he could keep his husband alive by sheer force of will. 

_Or perhaps_ Force _of Whills,_ Legolas thought to himself as he walked towards Chirrut’s room, and had to stifle giggles against his hands. If only Gimli where next to him, then Legolas could share his mirth. Odds were, Gimli would call him a silly elf, but his eyes would be laughing, and if Legolas timed it right, he could catch Gimli chuckling to himself. But Gimli was with Bodhi and Celebrian in the Arod, and so Legolas let himself grin until his mirth died away. 

Gently, Legolas rapped on the doorframe, sticking his head into the room. Sure enough, Baze sat next to Chirrut’s bed, though he looked up with a grunt when Legolas knocked. Legolas thought he was getting used to Baze’s lack of communication, and did not feel as if he would be especially unwelcome, and so he slipped quietly into the room, sitting in the empty chair next to Baze. 

Chirrut had been rushed into a bacta tank to address the worst of his physical wounds, and Lord Elrond had spent much time with him then, but he had only remained suspended for a few days before Elrond had called for him to be taken from the tank. 

“His body will heal,” he had said, meeting Baze’s intense stare. “The rest only time will tell.” 

And so, Chirrut had lay here, still save for his breathing, and Baze had stood sentry. 

“No change?” Legolas had asked quietly, though even he could see Chirrut had barely moved. Every day that there was no response worried them more--Chirrut was not one to be still for so long. Baze shook his head, and Legolas saw his fingers tighten around Chirrut’s hand. 

“He is with the Force,” Baze said, his dark voice deep and rough. “And the Force is with him.” 

Legolas reached out and placed a hand on Chirrut’s leg, his mind drifting to Gimli, and how Legolas would react if his own husband, full of such fire, was so still. “Aye,” he said. “And I’m sure that’s a comfort, but I would rather he were here with us.” 

Baze snorted, the closest he had come to a laugh since that moment on the ship. “You sound lik your husband,” he said. 

“I would hope so,” Legolas said, smiling at Baze. “He is wiser than I am.” 

“And prettier.” 

Legolas startled, and Baze’s head whipped around to send his hair flying. “Chirrut!” he cried, and on the bed, Chirrut turned his head toward Baze, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Baze, love,” Chirrut said. His voice was wrecked, a bare scraping whisper, but it was him: he was awake. 

Legolas stood, gently squeezing Chirrut’s leg as he did so. “I’ll call Lord Elrond,” he said. “It is good to see you, my friend.” 

Chrirrut didn’t respond; he was too busy smiling at Baze as the warrior leaned in to take Chirrut’s face in his hands, press their foreheads together. Legolas left quickly; there were some moments that were not meant for others. 

***

Bodhi was a quiet man, Gimli had come to know, except on two occasions: 1) When someone was in danger and 2) when he dropped a spanner on his foot. Gimli shared a look with Celebrain, who was trying not to laugh at the sheer breadth of profanity that fell from Bodhi. 

“Pilots,” Gimli said quietly, and then louder: “Are you alright Bodhi?” 

“This fucking spanner!” 

Gimli heard the scrape of metal as Bodhi picked up the tool as went back to his repair, and he let himself relax--until the door to the bay opened and Legolas came running through. 

“Legolas?”

“Chirrut it awake!” 

Turns out, there were three times when Bodhi would be loud. 

Chirrut was sitting up in the bed, looking paler than Gimli would like, but he was _awake_ and smiling at them. Baze was transformed, as the weariness of his vigil fell away. He had wedged himself onto the top of the bed, and instead of a pillow, Chirrut leaned back against his husband, held in place by one of Baze’s strong arms. 

He didn’t speak much, and Gimli could understand that--coming back from the dead could be tiring--but he listened as the others talked. Jyn told him of their success, and Bodhi of their rescue. Legolas explained where they all were, and Gimli told him of the progress of their repairs. 

Cassian was oddly quiet, and as things began to quiet, Gimli noticed the mouse droid at his feet. 

“Cassian,” Gimli asked, and jerked his chin. “What’s that?” 

Cassian looked at him, half of his mouth quirking in a grin. “Good news,” he said, and tapped the mouse droid with his boot. “Go on, then.” 

The mouse droid bumped back, making a sound not unlike a raspberry, and wheeled over to the wall terminal. It whirred, and a moment later plugged itself in. Almost instantly, a voice came through the comms: 

“Cassian, this is undignified. Are you punishing me for hitting you?” 

Jyn and Bodhi both turned to stare at the mouse droid. “Kaytoo?” Jyn whispered. 

“Yes,” Kaytoo-the-mouse-droid said. “And no. This is not my body. Cassian, I want an upgrade.” 

Gimli leaned into Cassian, who was hiding a smile behind his hand. “Friend of yours?” 

Cassian nodded. “He stayed behind to cover us. I thought he was gone, but when I got my things, I noticed an alert on my comm.” He shook his head. “The fucker downloaded himself as a failsafe; he doesn’t remember anything after the download, but it’s him alright.” He raised his voice. “And yes, you’re being punished for hitting me. Don’t ever do that again.” 

“I can hardly hit you without hands.” 

“That’s the idea.” 

“Oh, good,” Chrirrut said from the bed. “Everyone lives.” 

***

It wasn’t easy; it would be a month before Chirrut was healed enough that Elrond would let him go. In the time between, Cassian listened; he learned of the destruction of Alderaan, and they mourned and raged. He learned of the attack on the Yavin base, and that the Death Star was destroyed; the plans had made it safely and the Alliance had been able to take advantage of its weakness. They knew the Alliance would not stay on Yavin, so Cassian listened, and waited, and when the time was right, they left Home Base to reconvene with the rest of the fleet. 

But that’s another story.


End file.
